


A Million Candles Burning

by HerRosesNeverFall



Series: The Lazarus'verse [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Apocalypse, Biblical References, Christmas (ish), Cuddling & Snuggling, Dean helps Bobby set up a Christmas Tree it counts, Diverges After Ep 4.04 Metamorphosis, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gen, Hanukkah, It's Christmas related for like five seconds, Jewish Holidays, Judaism, M/M, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Season/Series 05, This is an AU of my AU, because I'm a self-indulgent little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:33:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27965360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HerRosesNeverFall/pseuds/HerRosesNeverFall
Summary: Dean was not in the mood for Christmas this year. He had many reasons not to be.
Relationships: Bobby Singer & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Rufus Turner & Dean Winchester
Series: The Lazarus'verse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1344247
Comments: 13
Kudos: 40





	A Million Candles Burning

**Author's Note:**

> As with the rest of Lazarus'verse, this fic contains ideas and concepts that some might consider blasphemous. You have been warned.
> 
> This is an AU of Lazarus'verse (An AU of my AU because I'm self-indulgent like that) and takes place somewhere towards the middle of _Adam's Atoms Remain_. The events therein do not reflect what I have planned for Lazarus'verse (aside from the things I _do_ have planned) so this is technically spoiler-free.
> 
> The Title is from ['You Want It Darker'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f7j4s2FURH8) by Leonard Cohen
> 
> A special thanks to Kweh for being my sensitivity reader.

**_December 8, 2009._ **

**_Sioux Falls, South Dakota._ **

“Are you even gonna have _room_ in your study for this thing?” Dean whined, dragging a seven-foot-tall balsam fir behind him as he stomped through Bobby’s front door.

“I’ll make room,” Bobby said, shoving the tree through the threshold.  
  
Dean took a deep breath as he dropped the tree down on the floor. “I still don’t get why you’re bothering with this thing. You never get a Christmas tree and this year ain’t exactly chipper,” he said, anxiety at the impending apocalypse gnawing at the back of his mind. 

Dean was not in the mood for Christmas this year. He had many reasons not to be. Sam had been in the wind for nearly seven months, since Lucifer’s release. 

And there was the fact that Dean _was_ the messiah; he was Jesus reincarnated. By celebrating Christmas, Dean was celebrating himself, which didn’t sit well with him. 

Not to mention the fact that his birthday, _Jesus’s birthday_ , he reminded himself firmly, was in March. The date was wrong and the story that accompanied it was a lie. Christmas was hollow. Empty.

“Exactly.” Bobby scoffed. This might be our last rodeo and if it is, I’m doing it _right_ .”  
  
Dean picked the tree back up, groaning. “Jesus this fucking thing is heavy.”  
  
Bobby shot him a look. “Quit bellyaching. You were a carpenter in a previous life. I think you can handle picking up one measly Christmas tree.”  
  
“Don’t remind me.” Dean sighed, picking the tree back up and dragging it into Bobby’s study. He lifted it upright.

Placing the tree in the stand, Dean and Bobby fiddled with the tree’s position for a while until it was straight. 

Once it was straight, Bobby went into the basement, coming back with a couple of yellowed and creased boxes of Christmas lights.

“Are you sure these are gonna work?" Dean cocked an eyebrow, brushing the needles from his jacket and hair. “Those lights look like they’re older than me.”  
  
“Well...we’ll see.” Bobby scratched his head under his hat. He plugged the light set into a random socket, checking them.  
  
Half the lights lit up in bright shades of green, red, blue, pink, and yellow. The other half was still dark.  
  
“Balls.” Bobby groaned  
  
“Maybe this is a sign from Hashem- _God_ \- that this was a bad idea,” Dean said, pulling the lights out of the outlet and wrapping them back up.  
  
“Relax, Scrooge.” Bobby smirked.“Besides, it’s your birthday. You should enjoy it.”  
  
“ _My_ birthday is in January.” Dean shot Bobby a look. “My _other_ birthday was in March. I think. It’s whenever Purim is. This was Constantine’s idea.” Dean pointed to the tree.

“I know. I’m just teasing, son,” Bobby said. “And technically the tree was Queen Victoria’s idea.” 

“Whatever,” Dean sighed. “My point still stands.”  
  
“Are you gonna help me here or not?”

“Yeah,” Dean sighed, pulling his keys out of his pocket. “How many boxes of lights you gonna need?”  
  
“At least two. Make sure you get the ones that stay lit even if one goes out.”  
  
“Gotcha.” Dean saluted as he made his way back to the front door, closing it behind him. He made his way down the steps and over to the Impala, climbing into the driver’s seat. Starting the car, he turned the radio on.  
  
Bing Crosby blared through the speakers. 

_"...God rest ye merry gentlemen Let nothing you dismay. Remember Christ our Savior was born on Christmas Day to save us all from Satan's power when we were gone astray..."_  
  
Dean rolled his eyes, changing the station. 

Frank Sinatra.

 _"….The First Noel, the Angels did say. was to certain poor shepherds in fields as they lay._ _In fields where they lay keeping their sheep..."_

  
“Damn it.” Dean growled, changing the station again.

Paul McCartney  
  
 _"...Simply having a wonderful Christmastime! Simply having a wonderful Christmastime..."_

“Shut up Paul,” Dean shut the radio off, taking a deep breath. “Son of a bitch.”

He reached down into his cassette tapes, finding an old cassette tape of Zepplin I, popping it into his cassette player. Loud guitars and feedback echoed through the cabin.  
  
“That’s more like it.” Dean turned the volume up as he pulled out his parking spot and down the driveway.  
  


* * *

Dean was walking out of Walgreens, a plastic shopping bag with three packs of Christmas lights inside when he heard a sound. A sound he was dreading. A person speaking into a megaphone echoing from the sidewalk just beyond the parking lot.  
  
 _“.....You must be ready! It is the Last Hour! Christ has returned! Not with clouds of Heaven, but as a thief in the night! It was He who appeared after the Tornado in Moore!_ _You must be vigilant! The Antichrist will lead you astray…”_

“Jesus fuck. You gotta be kidding me.” Dean sighed, rolling his eyes.

He made his way quickly across the parking lot and into the Impala, climbing into the driver’s seat. He quickly took out his cellphone, calling Bobby. 

“Hey, Bobby.”

_"Did you get lights?”_

“Yeah. Walgreens had ‘em. Anyway, we got another problem.”

_"What?”_

"One of those _street preachers_ is here.” Bile filled Dean’s mouth.

Bobby paused. _“Where?”_

“South Kiwanis Ave.”  
  
 _“So do something about it.”_ Bobby deadpanned

“What am I gonna do? I can’t gank the guy. He’s not a demon. He’s just some poor schmuck. And I don’t feel like getting stoned tonight. Well, not _that_ kind of stoned anyway.”

 _"Well, you can’t not do anything.”_  
  
Dean let out a sigh. “Bobby, this problem ain’t gonna go away until we find The Whore. That’s what Cas said. Until we shank her ass these assholes are gonna keep popping up.”

 _“How’s that going by the way?”_  
  
“Cas said she’s somewhere in Minnesota or Wisconsin.”  
  
 _“Well that narrows it down,”_ Bobby said sarcastically.

“Lucifer’s got her cloaked. Same with Sam.” Dean raised his voice, drumming his hand on the steering wheel.  
  
Bobby grew quiet. _“We’ll find him, son.”_

"Yeah.” Dean cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’m gonna get the hell outta Dodge before he realizes I’m here.”

 _“Okay. See you back at the house.”_  
  
“Yeah.” Dean hung up his phone, shoving it back into the pocket of his jacket and starting the Impala and driving out of the parking lot.  
  
As Dean made his way back to Bobby’s house, he passed by a small white house with the sign Out front. ‘ _Chabad Jewish Center of South Dakota’._ Another makeshift sign was next to it ‘ _Special Hanukkah Dinner. December 11th.’_

This coming Friday was the start of Hanukkah and it was already Tuesday.  
  
Dean paused for a second. He glanced down at the gas gauge. Half-full. He would need to get gas before leaving Sioux Falls. 

* * *

Dean walked into Bobby’s house, walking into his study. Now filled with old cardboard boxes. Bobby was sitting in his desk chair, digging through one of them.  
  
“I see you didn’t get pummeled to death,” Bobby said, fiddling with a silver star made of tinsel. 

“Yeah.” Dean took a deep breath as he pulled the Christmas light boxes out of the bag. He glanced between the boxes and the tree ornament. “You know, what was thinking of paying Rufus a visit.”

“Rufus? Why?”  
  
“Well, we haven’t checked in with him in a while and he’s up in bumfuck Vermont all by himself. During the Holidays. Somebody should check on him.”

“Rufus is by himself because he likes being left alone.”  
  
“Yeah I know but-” Dean took another deep breath. “I’m getting cabin fever, man. Maybe I’ll find a hunt or something along the way.”  
  
Bobby sighed, “Well, just make sure you pick up some Johnny Walker Blue Label before you get there.”  
  
“Will do,” Dean said, putting the Christmas lights down and grabbing his keys.  
  
“You’re leaving _now_ ?”  
  
“Yeah. If I leave now I can be there by Friday afternoon.”  
  
Bobby nodded. As Dean started to make his way down the hall Bobby called out. “Hanukkah starts at sundown, by the way.”  
  
“I knew that.”  
  
“I would hope so.” Bobby chuckled.

Dean shook his head, closing the front behind him.

* * *

  
**_December 11, 2009._**

**_Cannan, Vermont_.**  
  
Dean walked up the snow and late afternoon sunlight coated the sidewalk, ascending the stairs of the mint green and red two-floor bungalow. When he reached the porch he stopped, staring at the door. His eyes drifting over to the mezuzah hanging just outside the threshold of the door.  
  
Part of him wanted to turn back, go back into the Impala, find a motel room, and crash there. His eyes were heavy and his legs ached from two days of driving. He didn’t feel like getting into an argument he was sure was going to come. At the same time, another part of him wanted to knock on the door for the same reason. He had driven all that way, refilled his gas tank more times than he could count. He couldn’t turn back now.

Readjusting the strap of his duffle bag, and taking a deep breath, he walked over to the bell and rang it.  
  
A few seconds later, the security camera on the porch turned towards him and a voice came billowing out of the tan color apartment inter-com just to the right of the door.

“Dean? What the hell are you doing here?” Rufus asked, annoyed more than anything.  
  
Dean swallowed. “Well, I was in the neighborhood so I figured I’d stop by.”

A groan came through the intercom followed by silence. A few seconds later the door opened.  
  
Rufus was standing there.  
  
“You know Shabbat starts a couple of hours right?” Rufus deadpanned.  
  
Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah. I know.”  
  
“And you know Hanukkah starts too, right?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Then what the hell are you doing here? It’s not like I’m gonna help you with whatever job it is you’re working.”  
  
“I’m not working a job.” Dean paused. “I’m actually here _because_ it’s Hanukkah.”  
  
Rufus scoffed, cocking an eyebrow. “And what does your goyim ass want with Hanukkah?”

“I just-” Dean paused. “Christmas just doesn’t mean anything to me anymore. Not that it ever really did. In fact, I kinda hate it.”  
  
Rufus shot Dean a look. “Don’t like having your birthday and XMas on the same day huh? Well that’s not my problem kid.” Rufus started to shut the door. 

Dean caught it with his boot. “Rufus, listen. I know I’m probably the last person you wanna see right now. Especially given how bad things can get around this time of year. Pogroms. Auto-de-fes -”  
  
Rufus narrowed his eyes. “I don’t need a Jewish history lesson from _you_ .”  
  
“No, but I could use one from _you_ .”  
  
Rufus scrunched his brow. “The hell are you talking about?”

“Listen I know this whole... _thing_ going on with me is awkward for you-”  
  
“Have you brought world peace or rebuilt the Temple?” Rufus said, rolling his eyes.  
  
“No.” Dean shrugged.

“Then we don’t got a problem. Now take your foot outta my door.”  
  
Dean took a deep breath.”I don’t want to have a problem with you.” He said, not in English, but Aramaic.  
  
Rufus paused. “When did you learn Aramaic?”

“I didn’t learn it. I _remembered_ it.”  
  
Rufus blinked. “What?”  
  
“From before. From my previous life.” Dean took a deep breath. “My name was Yehoshua bar Yosef. I was just a guy. I was some poor schmuck that got messed up in all this angel bullshit. I was a pious, observant man and for my faith the angels let the Romans crucify my ass.” Dean paused. “I never wanted to start a new religion. I was a Pharasic rabbi for fuck’sake. You can thank Paul of Tarsus, Constantine and whatever dick angel decided to inspire them for that. For all of...this bullshit.” Dean gestured to the Christmas decorations on the houses around Rufus’. “I wanna go home, Rufus. I _need_ to.”

Silence fell between them.

Then Rufus chuckled, shaking his head.

“A Jew stuck in a land filled with goys.” Rufus took a deep breath as he opened the door. “You better have brought some Johnnie with you.”  
  
Dean smiled. He dug into a duffle bag, pulling out a long and thin blue cardboard box with gold lettering. He cleared his throat, holding it out to Rufus. “ _Chag Urim Sameach.”_ _  
__  
_Rufus smirked, taking the box and as he opened the door further “Just so we’re clear, you’re not getting any. Call it atonement for the Middle Ages.”

“That’s fine with me.” Dean shrugged. He made his way through the door, touching the mezuzah briefly as he walked through the threshold.

* * *

Dean watched as Rufus put an antique silver candelabra with eight arms on the kitchen table, opening a box of candles and pulling two out. Rufus was wearing a kippah, large and cylinder shaped and made out of embroidered silk. It was the only time Dean had ever seen Rufus wear one.  
  


_"...Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tsivanu l’hadlik ner shel Hanukkah…"_

Rufus put the candles in the candelabra, one on the far right, the other in the center. Then he lit them.

 _"...Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, she-asah nisim la’avoteinu bayamim hahem bazman hazeh..."_  
  
When Rufus was done, he picked the menorah up and walked over the window cill, placing it on it.  
  
Dean watched the flames flicker, reflecting back in the reflection of the window. It brought him calm. Peace even. He smiled slightly. “It’s pretty.”  
  
“Thanks.”   
  
Dean cleared his throat. “The menorah looks old.”  
  
“It is. It belonged to my great-great-grandparents. It was one of the few things they managed to bring up to Boston with them when they left South Carolina.”  
  
Dean watched Rufus for a second. “I’m guessing they didn’t go willingly.”  
  
“Nope. The Klan drove them out. Set fire to their house. Lynched a couple of my great-great uncles-may their memory be a blessing.”  
  
Rufus grew silent. His eyes moved up to the window, staring at the sun. “Enough talk of that. I’ve got more candles to light.”  
  
He went back to the kitchen table. He took a couple of tealight out of a pack and placed them on the table lighting them.  
  
After lighting them, he said a prayer over challah bread and wine, taking a bite and sip of each. 

When Rufus was done, he handed the cup over to Dean.  
  
Dean took a sip from it, nodding. “That’s good wine.”  
  
“It _better_ be. It’s an aged Cabernet Sauvignon from Israel.”  
  
Dean cocked an eyebrow. “This ain’t Manischewitz?”  
  
Rufus scoffed, offended. “Are you kidding me? That stuff is disgusting. Besides, it’s Ashkenaz wine. I’m Sephardi. If I’m gonna drink wine, it’s gonna be _good_ wine.”  
  
Dean chuckled. “Can’t argue with that one.”

* * *

  
  


Dean was sitting at the kitchen table, the remnants of what Rufus called _'Ropa vieja’_

sitting in front of him. Skirt steak braised in a tomato sauce with black beans and yellow rice. 

“Damn that was good.” Dean said, patting his stomach.

“If you think that’s good, wait until you try the _buñuelos_ ” Rufus held a plate out to him, filled with fried dough balls topped with a sweet orange glaze. 

“I don’t think I can eat another bite.” Dean shook his head.  
  
“Eat.” Rufus insisted.  
  
Dean took one, taking a bite from it. “Nevermind.”

Rufus grinned, taking a sip from his glass of Johnny Walker. He was quiet for a long moment until he spoke again. “What was it like?”  
  
“What was _what_ like?” Dean cocked an eyebrow, his mouth full of fried dough.  
  
“Seeing The Temple. Standing that is. I’ve visited the Western Wall.”  
  
Dean was quiet for a second. He swallowed. He scrunched his brow. “Intimidating. I guess. It was huge. Of course, there were Roman soldiers stationed on top of the outside court. Watching.”  
  
“Of course.” Rufus scoffed.  
  
“I got into a pretty heated debate about what constituted work on the Sabbath with a bunch of rabbis there once. We came to a conclusion that it’s not work if it’s for the preservation of life. ‘ _Pikuach nefesh_ ’ I think is what they called it.” Dean paused, smirking at Rufus. “I’m pretty sure digging up graves and digging burn pits on hunts fall under that category.”  
  
Rufus stopped mid whiskey sip, putting his drink down. “Don’t rat me out, kid.”  
  
“Rat you out for _what?_ ” Dean cocked an eyebrow.  
  
Rufus grinned. “Exactly.” He turned his eyes over to the window, squinting. “The hell?”  
  
“What?” Dean blinked.  
  
“It’s snowing.” Rufus stood from his chair, going over to the window where the now burned out menorah was. “A lot.”  
  
“How much is a lot?” 

“ _A lot_ \- alot. There’s gotta be at least two feet of snow out there.” 

Dean got up and walked over to the window. Rufus’ front steps were covered in snow so much that the steps were no longer visible. The driveway and the Impala was buried in a blanket of snow

“The fuck?” Dean blinked. “I didn’t hear anything about snow on the drive over here.” 

“I didn’t either.” Rufus paused for a second. “Do me a favor and turn the TV on.”

Dean shot Rufus a look.  
  
“What? It’s Sabbath and you’re the only Gentile here.”

“Yeah. _Technically_.” Dean scoffed.

Rufus shot him a look. “Unless you converted or your mamma was Jewish, I hate to break it to you but you ain’t a member of the tribe.”  
  
“Patrilineal Jews are a thing too ya know,” Dean grumbled.

“Last time I checked John wasn’t Jewish and Bobby ain’t Jewish either,” Rufus said. “ So turn the TV on kid.”  
  
Dean shook his head. He walked over to the TV, turning it on and flipping through the channels until he reached the weather channel.  
  
 _“...Winter Storm Billy is hammering the North East right now. Over a foot and a half is being reported from Bangor to Washington D.C. New York, Connecticut, Massachusetts and New Jersey have already declared states of emergency. A huge feat for a storm that only formed a few hours ago...”_

“Son of a bitch.” Dean gritted.

Rufus shook his head. “The weather this year. You’d almost think the world was ending.” He sighed. “Well, looks you’re not leaving here anytime soon.”  
  


* * *

Dean was sleeping in a bed in a Rufus spare bedroom. He wasn’t dreaming so much as remembering. Old memories. He- _Jesus_ \- and Cas- _Castiel_ \- sitting around a campfire set among acacia trees. Shared goatskins of wine and laughter and drawn out discussions about Torah.

He remembered going by himself to say nightly prayers dressed in tefillin and a prayer shawl and when he was done, Castiel would always be there. 

_"…shield and shelter us beneath the shadow of Your wings…"_

The flapping of wings filled the room. Dean’s eyes snapped open, finding Castiel standing in the center of the room.  
  
Dean sat up, putting his torso against the wall and pillow, staring at Castiel. Not at his vessel, but at the angel underneath. A glowing figure with a pair of black wings with rainbow colored tips.

“I was doing it again, wasn’t I?” Dean chuckled.  
  
“Praying in your sleep? Yes. I heard it”

That always happened when Dean had those dreams. Eventually, he would end up speaking Aramaic or Hebrew in his sleep.  
  
“You always do.” Dean shifted himself over on the bed, turning on his side.

Castiel walked over to it.  
  
“Coat and shoes, Cas.”  
  
“Right.” Castiel took his shoes and jacket off before climbing into the bed, wrapping his arms protectively around Dean. “How was the first night of Hunnukah?” He said, his breath brushing against Dean’s neck.  
  
“Good.” Dean nodded. “It felt…” he paused. “Right.” Dean threaded his fingers in between Castiel’s, pulling him tighter around him. He was quiet.

“You are not the same man. Despite sharing the same soul and you bearing the same wounds You and Jesus are two _very_ different individuals. He and I would have never done this.” Castiel paused, he ran his thumb over the dark pink circular scar on the top of Dean’s left wrist. “Even if I wanted to.”  
  
“I know. It just-” Dean paused. “It just feels like I need to find some sort of middle ground Between us. Ya know?”  
  
“If it’s any consolation for being a Gentile, you're very Jewish.”  
  
Dean scrunched his eyebrow. 

Castiel cleared his throat. “Israel means ‘he who wrestles with God’. You certainly do that on a regular basis.”  
  
Dean chuckled. “Yeah, but how much of that is me and how much of that Jesus? I mean you guys used to argue all the time.”

“You stabbed me when we first met and you’ve told me to...” Castiel thought for a second. “‘Fuck off’ more than once. You’re much more argumentative. And stubborn. That’s _definitely_ a feature only you have.”  
  
Dean smiled. “Thanks, Cas.” 

He closed his eyes. Within a few moments, he was sleeping again.  
  


* * *

**_December 14, 2009._**

**_Bethlehem, New Hampshire._**

Dean had been snowed in at Rufus’ house for three days. It wasn’t until the following Monday that the roads were clear enough for him to leave. His time was spent lighting Hanukkah candles, eating and studying lore.

Now he was at a synagogue an hour and a half south of Rufus’ home, sitting in a rabbi’s office.

“So you know Mr. Turner huh?” The rabbi asked. She was a woman in her 50’s with short gray hair, partially covered by a yarmulke.  
  
Dean nodded awkwardly. “Yeah, he’s a family friend.”  
  
“He’s a good man. A bit of a curmudgeon, but a good man. He comes here for High Holiday Services.”  
  
“Yeah, he told me you guys were very…’egalitarian and progressive'.” Dean paused. “I _do_ gotta tell you though that I don’t believe in God.”  
  
“Well belief in God is optional.” The Rabbi shrugged. “It's about finding the divine within yourself and sending it out into the world.” 

Dean sighed, relieved. “Good.”. 

The rabbi folded her hands on her desk. “So tell me, Dean, why do you want to be Jewish?”  
  
Dean cocked an eyebrow. “You’re not gonna turn me away three times are you?”  
  
“No.” The rabbi shook her head. “We don’t do that here.”

“Well.” Dean paused. Thinking. What he wanted to say, he couldn’t. “Well about half a year ago I found out that I have Jewish ancestry. Distant Jewish ancestry. It’s been a struggle for me to come terms with that. Ya know? I think the only way I can come to terms with it is if I…” Dean paused. “Embrace it. On my own terms.”  
  
The rabbi nodded. “You know this won’t be easy.”

“I get that.”  
  
“And this is going to be _a process_ .”  
  
“I know that. But I’m ready for it. Hineni, hineni.’” 

“Well, I’m willing to sponsor you.” The rabbi got up from the desk and walked over to her bookshelf, grabbing a small stalk of books and putting them on the desk in front of Dean. “You can start with these.” 

Dean thumbed through the books. “That’s a lotta reading.” He chuckled.

“There’s more where that came from.” She grinned. “You said you travel a lot for work so you’re not tied down to any one place?”  
  
“Yeah. I spend most of my time living in motels.”  
  
“In that case, we’ll correspond through emails and phone calls so I can check in on you. See how you're doing. I’ll give you a list of similar synagogues so you can attend services. It’s important that you go even if you don’t believe in God. They’re cultural as much as they are religious.”  
  
“That would be good. Thanks.” Dean nodded. “How long do you think it will take?”  
  
“Typically a year. But if you're dedicated enough and show enough growth, you might be able to get it done in half that time.”  
  
“And when I am ready?” Dean cocked an eyebrow.  
  
“You’ll be welcomed into the tribe.”

  
“I don’t have to do a mikvah or have a beit din or any of that? Because if I’m gonna do this, I’m gonna _do_ this. I don’t wanna half-ass it.” 

“You can if you want.” She paused awkwardly. “Of course you _will_ have to get circumcised if you’re not already-”  
  
“No. I am.” Dean cleared his throat.

Dean had been circumcised as a baby. Standard American practice. He thanked Castiel for not healing that part of him when he pulled Dean out of hell.

“Good. We’ll still have to draw some blood though just so it’s all kosher.”  
  
Dean nodded awkwardly. “Got it.”

“In the meantime. Study, participate, ask questions. Always ask questions. Do you have any ideas for a Hebrew name?” 

Dean stood up from the chair, grabbing the books and shoving them under his arm. “Aryeh? It means ‘Lion’. I think.”  
  
“It does.” She grinned. “See, you’re learning already.” She put her hand out.

Dean shook it. “Thanks.” Dean turned and left the office, leaving the synagogue and going back out the parking lot where the Impala was sitting. Climbing inside the driver's seat and placing his hands on the steering wheel, he let out a deep breath of relief.  
  
Dean sat there for a few minutes before he dug into his jacket pocket, pulling out a mezuzah. It was silver with an etched vine scroll design on it and the letter ‘Shin’ carved into the front in the middle of it. Rufus had given to him and put a silver chain through the top hole where the screws were supposed to go.  
  
Dean took it and placed it around the rearview mirror.

He made a mental note stop at the first hardware store he could find to pick up some heavy-duty 3M tape to stick it onto the driver side door.

**Author's Note:**

> :: Auto-da-fés where the ritual of 'public penance' carried out between the 15th and 19th centuries of condemned 'heretics' and 'apostates' imposed by the Spanish, Portuguese, or Mexican Inquisition as punishment and enforced by civil authorities. Its most extreme form was death by burning. The victims of these rituals were either forcibly converted Jewish people (conversos) or their descendants (anusim), many of whom practiced crypto-Judaism, a blend of Christian and Jewish synchronism and practicing Judaism in secret. They were also carried out against forcibly converted Muslims. 
> 
> :: A pogrom is a violent riot aimed at the massacre or expulsion of an ethnic or religious group and, historically, was used particularly on Jewish people. Though a few happened in the pre-Christian era (Alexandria, Egypt in 38 CE and 66 CE), the worst ones happened in the Middle Ages in Western Europe (The Rhine River Massacres of 1096, Various ones during the Black Death) and during the Mid-late 19th Century and early 20th century in the Russian Empire in places such as Kiev, Warsaw, and Odessa. By far, the worst one happened between November 9 and 10 1938 in Germany. Known as 'Kristallnacht' and was the starting point of the Holocaust.
> 
> ::Sephardi is a diasporic Jewish ethnic division. Typically applying to Jewish People with origins from Spain. Many Sephardi settled in South Carolina (specifically Charleston) during the American Colonial period and some owned plantations and slaves. As was typical of Plantation owners (both Christian and Jewish), their slaves would be converted into the religion of the people that owned them.


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